


Tall, Sharp and Angry

by AuditoryCheesecake



Series: A Cheesecake's Tumblr Shorts [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, Swords, The Struggles of Being A Writer, sand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuditoryCheesecake/pseuds/AuditoryCheesecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're in the Hissing Wastes, and Varric's distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tall, Sharp and Angry

The Hissing Wastes were awful. Top Five Worst Places In Thedas. Second only to Darktown. Maybe. At least Darktown had places to sit and no nearly-molten sand to find its way into your boots.

The shade in Darktown didn’t feel like a gift from the Maker himself, either, and when you drank water it didn’t feel like Andraste was pouring you a cup of heavenly mead. Darktown also didn’t have the Seeker. Darktown didn’t have the Seeker’s _biceps_. So maybe Varric could move The Hissing Wastes down a rung or two.

They camped in the shadow of a cliff and rested during the worst of the day’s heat, but it was still excruciating. The sand shifted under his boots and sweat trailed down his back even sitting still. There was grit under the fabric and in his hair. Propped against the lingering coolness of the rockface, he put pen listlessly to paper. Madame de Fer, who was using magic to cool herself _somehow_ peeked at the page he’d filled with fragments of sentences. He hadn’t been able to finish a thought all day.

He angled the paper away with a defensive glare. “Heat slows my brain down.”

“But of course,” she agreed. “I would never accuse you of distraction.”

He looked around at the expanse of sand and sky. “Distracted by what? There’s nothing here.”

Vivienne’s elegant eyebrows (that was probably also magic) raised in silent recrimination, and she titled her head to where Cassandra and the Iron Bull were crossing swords. Midday had barely passed. He’d given up trying to understand warriors. “I thought you had a keen eye for rippling muscles,” she said. He thought she might be joking with him. She had a masterful grasp of the deadpan delivery.

“Tiny’s not really my type,” he started, but now that he was looking, it was hard to look away. Not the Iron Bull, or well, only briefly. Cassandra. Tall, sharp, disdainful, angry, and yes, beautiful, in a tall, sharp, and angry way. She’d taken off the heaviest of her armor, and she looked strange without the sword and eye of the Inquisition on her chest. In just trousers and a simple tunic, she could have looked softer. The intense expression on her face and the sword in her hands ruined that, though.

No, not ruined. Completed. Her arms strained as she hefted the blade, her teeth bared fiercely at the Bull. Her feet, planted solidly, barely shifted on the sand as she parried a swing of his ax. The sun was bright, and her hair was dark– and Varric was suddenly full of plenty of things to write, but he didn’t want to look away long enough to do it.

The Iron Bull saw him and Vivienne watching, and waved cheerfully. Vivienne lifted a hand in return, accompanied by an indulgent smile. Cassandra scowled at the interruption, and threw Varric a look. She seemed startled to find him staring back at her. (He could admit it, to himself at least, that he was definitely staring.) She raised her hand in an uncertain gesture, turned it into a wipe at the sweat on her forehead partway through. The Iron Bull leaned down to say something in her ear and she squawked and slapped at his arm. The Qunari laughed and raised his weapon mock-defensively as she rounded on him, irate. Varric chuckled to himself and turned his attention to his pen and parchment. The dashing guard captain needed to be more fully described.

 

The sun had shifted, Vivienne had left him, he’d filled the front and back of one page and emptied half the water in his canteen, when a shadow fell across the sand beside him. Cassandra, breathing evenly, but still wearing a sheen of sweat, looked down at him. “What are you writing?” Her tone was cautious.

“The next chapter of _Swords and Shields_ , maybe.” The ink dried quickly. “I’ll look at it again in a day or so and decide if it’s any good.”

“I’m sure it will be,” she blurted, and shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Why were you watching me, earlier?”

He could tell her the truth. (Not today, of course, but maybe someday.) “Research. Inspiration.” Was that a blush? Might have just been sunburn. “I don’t do swords myself, have to make sure I get the descriptions right.”

She nodded brusquely, then fiddled with a lose thread at the edge of her tunic. “Did you find sufficient inspiration? Perhaps I could… give you another demonstration?”

Varric stared, mouth slightly agape, until she scoffed uncomfortably and rubbed at her shoulder. “Are you hitting on me, Seeker?”

She made a disgusted noise, but instead of turning away, she said, “the Iron Bull said you were– checking me out. I just thought–” she stuttered to a stop. Varric was fascinated. This was the least controlled he’d ever seen her. “Stupid of me,” he thought he heard her mutter. “Of course it was a joke.”

“And if I say I was?” This time she stared at him.

Maybe, the Hissing Wastes could make the list of Top Ten Most Decent Places In Thedas. As long as he never had to go back.


End file.
